Dulaman
by FFAMasquerade2005
Summary: No one would throw roses upon the stage and call out her name or demand for an encore no, that was not the life for her." A one shot about a young gyspy woman and her one night performance with Erik. Based off the song "Dulaman" by Altan. R&R!


Irish Seaweed

By Kimberlyn

Disclaimer: I own nothing that has to do with POTO. Meridon the names does not really belong to me either. She belongs to Philippa Gregory.

Meridon peered out from behind the red velvet curtain on the opera house's empty stage out into the empty theater. It was well past eleven o

clock on this chilly Tuesday night and Meridon doubted if anyone but herself and the fairies were up at such an hour, most likely every "normal"

employee of the Paris opera house was in their own rooms (such as the Prima Donna and Prima Ballerina), or dormitories and snuggled up nice

and warm in their beds dreaming the night away. Meridon took a steadying breath and walked hesenitly to the center of the stage, she closed

her eyes and did her best to try and imagine the auditorium filled with the aristocratic and the opera's Patrons all dressed in their finest clothes.

The men would be in their black dinner jackets most likely with coat tails, white or even cream colored button up shirts, their gold or sliver

pocket watches opened to check the time and talking to their neighbors about the latest politics. Then there would be the ladies who were

either the wives or mistresses of the well to do men. The ladies would be darned in beautiful expensive dresses and would be adorned with

real diamonds, pearls or maybe even rubies in the forms of rings, bracelets or even earrings, they would be wearing ostrich feathers in their

hair to top it all off. Meridon laughed at this thought, if she were back home in Ireland and wore and ostrich feather in her hair she was sure

that everyone from Dublin to Dun Laoghaire would be laughing at her for wearing such a silly thing. Oh how she missed her home, her thoughts

turned back to the stage as she imagined the staged lights shining brightly upon her. Soon all would grow quiet as the orchestra finished

tuning and then the announcer would announce that the opera was about to begin, and all eye's would be upon her.

Erik was sitting in his opera box planning his next interrogation method for the new managers, who had still yet to listen to him, he had been

nice…enough to them, so far had he not? After all, all he ever wanted was for his box to remain empty for his use, 20,000 Frances a month (for

all his hard work) and to have a final say in everything since it was after all **his** opera house. Not much to ask for at all he thought to himself,

not much at all. Erik was interrupted in his musings when he saw that there was someone, besides himself, out and about this evening. Upon a

second glance he noticed that the figure was of a young women who he figured to be in her mid twenties who was somewhat taller than the

majority of the women he had seen around his opera house. She had bright red hair that fell in slight waves down her back, and was wearing a

light blue dress that looked familiar to him, though he could not quite place where he had seen it before. The dress was a perfect fit on the

young woman and seemed to hug her every curve, the dress appeared to have diamonds in the shape of stars sewed upon it. The woman

seemed to be nervous about the empty stage and auditorium by the way that she was hugging the curtain to her chest and kept looking

behind her as if someone or something was going to come up from behind her. After a few moments of watching and waiting the young woman

seemed to gather her courage and stepped out onto the stage, and that was when Erik remembered where he had seen that dress before. It

was the same dress his Christine had worn when she had played Elissa in the opera houses production of Hannibal! Where had that insolent

unworthy woman found his Christine's dress and why was she wearing it? Erik was about to demand an answer from the women on the stage

when she started to sing.

"A 'nino mihin o, sin anall na fir shuiri A mhuithairin mhin o, cuir na roithlean go dti me…"

At first Erik was confused she was certainly not singing in French or Italian, as most of the operas were sung in, but she was singing in Gaelic

which must have been her native language. He had never heard such a voice! This was very different from the voice that his Christine had had.

Christine had had a voice of an angel, a voice that was a gift from the heavens, a voice that could and had made people weep with its

pureness; however this woman's voice was full of pride and love and would have made any other person, or being stand in awe of it's beauty.

Erik listened more closely as the woman contained to sing.

"…Dulaman na binne bui, dulaman Gaelach. Dulaman ba farraige, b'fhearr a bhi in Eirinn. Ta ceann bui oir ar an dulaman gaelach. Ta dha chluais

mhaol ar an dulaman maorach Broga breaca dubha ar an dulaman galelach. Ta bearead agus trius ar an dulaman maorach. Dulaman na binne

bui, dulaman Gaelach. Dulaman ba farraige, b'fhearr a bhi in Eirinn. Ta ceann bui oir ar an dulaman gaelach. Ta dha chluais mhaol ar an dulaman

maorach Broga breaca dubha ar an dulaman galelach. Ta bearead agus trius ar an dulaman maorach…"

Erik could almost hear the Irish jig melody that would certainly have been accompanying her in the background; she would have most likely

been signing in her local pub in her home town, possibly Ireland he mused to himself.

"_How wonderful a gypsy brat roaming around in my opera house; however, with that voice and her looks she might be of service to me. Only if she had _

_a little bit of voice training, and some proper clothing she might be able to convince the managers to listen to me."_ Erik mumbled out loud to himself.

"…Goide a thug na tire thu? Arsa an dulaman gaelach, ag suiri le do nion, arsa an dulaman maorcah. Rachaimid chun Niuir leis an dulaman

gaelach, Ceannoimid brougu daora ar an dulaman maorach. Dulaman na binne bui, dulaman Gaelach. Dulaman ba farraige, b'fhearr a bhi in

Eirinn. Ta ceann bui oir ar an dulaman gaelach. Ta dha chluais mhaol ar an dulaman maorach Broga breaca dubha ar an dulaman galelach. Ta

bearead agus trius ar an dulaman maorach…"

Merdion could feel herself becoming lost in her song and could not help the fact that as the music flowed through her body and should that her

feet began to dance an old jig in time to the music that only she could hear in her head. As her song started to reach its peak Merdion found

her self back home in Ireland in the local pub O' Donohoe's singing for the locals because they would not let her rest until she had sung a song

for them. Her voice became louder and filled with more passion as she neared the end of the song.

"… O Chair me sceala chuici, go gceannoinn cior di 'Se'n sceal a chuir si chugam, go raibh a ceann ciortha. Dulaman na binne bui, dulaman

Gaelach. Dulaman ba farraige, b'fhearr a bhi in Eirinn. Ta ceann bui oir ar an dulaman gaelach. Ta dha chluais mhaol ar an dulaman maorach

Broga breaca dubha ar an dulaman galelach. Ta bearead agus trius ar an dulaman maorach. Cha bhfaigheann tu mo 'nion, arsa an dulaman

gaelach. Bheul, fuadoidh me liom I, arsa an dulaman maorach. Dulaman na binne bui, dulaman Gaelach. Dulaman na binne bui, dulaman

Gaelach. Dulaman ba farraige, b'fhearr a bhi in Eirinn. Ta ceann bui oir ar an dulaman gaelach. Ta dha chluais mhaol ar an dulaman maorach

Broga breaca dubha ar an dulaman galelach. Ta bearead agus trius ar an dulaman maorach. Dulamaman na binne bui, dulaman Gaelach.

Dulaman na farraige, b'fhearr a bhi, b'fhearr a bhi. Dulaman na binne bui, dulaman Gaelach. Dulaman na farraige b'fhearr abhi, b'fhearr abhi.

B'fhearr abhi in Eirinn." *

As Meridon finished her song she slowly came back to the reality that she was alone and there was no one there to applaud her for a

wonderful performance, there was no one there to listen to her songs. No one would throw roses upon the stage and call out her name and

demand for an encore no, that was not the life for her. She would continue to sing whenever the mood suited her or whenever she was

bathing. Meridon slowly curtsied to the empty auditorium and left the stage with a smile on her face, a song in her heart and a skip in her step,

never knowing that she had had an audience and that one person who had watched the performance would have been able to fulfill her dream

of going back home to Dublin Ireland.

* * *

Authors Note: *looks around at all the empty chairs covered in dust and cobwebs* I am soooooo sorry that it has been almost two years since

I have written anything, I blame my muse (Erik) who decided that it would be fun for him to take a vacation to who knows where for such a long

time. Erik got back a few day's ago and found a surprise waiting for him, a new muse in the family! Jasper from Twilight decided to come and

help me out while my other muse had left me, Jasper and I are working on getting the rest of the family to come join me.

*Jasper waves to everyone* "Hello Y'all, I'm just here keeping your fellow authoress safe from The Phantom, and keeping her inspired haha

he's not in the best of moods right now. But have no fear as long as I am here with Kimberlyn no harm shall come to her."

*Erik Glares at Jasper* "Oh just you wait pretty boy I will have my revenge! Muwhaha *coughs* *coughs* Damn cold!"

"Erik! Be nice to Jasper, it's not my fault that you went away for so long. I got lonely and started looking around for other muses; you'll always

be my first muse! Go take some cough medicine and stay away from me till your better, I don't want to get sick right before my birthday! Love

you Erik!!"

*Erik just grumbles*

Anyway I have been listening to Irish music for a few days' now, since my birthday and Saint Patrick's Day are all in one I wanted to get into the

mood. So last night my mind was racing with this story and it would not leave me alone so for about two hours last night I sat writing this out

on paper. I will also in the next few day's be updating At Your Side since I have inspiration ( I 3 Jasper!!) Let me know what you think of this

story, it is a one shot/ short story. Here is the English translation to the song, and then the Gaelic version. The song is sung in phonetic Gaelic

which means you sing it like it sounds, so that's a little bit easier on you. The song version I have here is sung by Celtic Women, so if I can find

a link to the song I will post it in here for you.

* * *

**"Irish Seaweed"**

Oh gentle daughter, here come the wooing men  
Oh gentle mother, put the wheels in motion for me

_[Chorus:]_  
Seaweed from the yellow cliff, Irish seaweed  
Seaweed from the ocean, the best in all of Ireland

There is a yellow gold head on the Gaelic seaweed  
There are two blunt ears on the stately seaweed  
The Irish seaweed has beautiful black shoes  
The stately seaweed has a beret and trousers

_[Chorus 2x]_

"What are you doing here?" says the Irish seaweed  
"At courting with your daughter," says the stately seaweed

I would go to Niúir with the Irish seaweed  
"I would buy expensive shoes," said the Irish seaweed

_[Chorus]_

I spent time telling her the story that I would buy a comb for her  
The story she told back to me, that she is well-groomed

"Oh where are you taking my daughter?" says the Irish seaweed  
"Well, I'd take her with me," says the stately seaweed

Seaweed from the yellow cliff, Irish seaweed

_[Chorus]_

Seaweed from the yellow cliff, Irish seaweed  
Seaweed from the ocean, the best, the best  
Seaweed from the yellow cliff, Irish seaweed  
Seaweed from the ocean, the best, the best  
The best in all of Ireland

**"Dúlaman"**

A 'níon mhín ó, sin anall na fir shúirí  
A mháithairin mhín ó, cuir na roithléan go dtí mé

_[Curfá:]_  
Dúlamán na binne buí, dúlamán Gaelach  
Dúlamán na farraige, b'fhearr a bhí in Éirinn

Tá ceann buí óir ar an dúlamán gaelach  
Tá dhá chluais mhaol ar an dúlamán maorach

Bróga breaca dubha ar an dúlamán gaelach  
Tá bearéad agus triús ar an dúlamán maorach

_[Curfá 2x]_

Góide a thug na tíre thú? arsa an dúlamán gaelach  
Ag súirí le do níon, arsa an dúlamán maorach

Rachaimid chun Niúir leis an dúlamán gaelach  
Ceannóimid bróga daora ar an dúlamán maorach

_[Curfá]_

Ó chuir mé scéala chuici, go gceannóinn cíor dí  
'Sé'n scéal a chuir sí chugam, go raibh a ceann cíortha

_[Curfá]_

Cha bhfaigheann tú mo 'níon, arsa an dúlamán gaelach  
Bheul, fuadóidh mé liom í, arsa an dúlamán maorach

Dúlamán na binne buí, dúlamán Gaelach

_[Curfá]_

Dúlamán na binne buí, dúlamán Gaelach  
Dúlamán na farraige, b'fhearr a bhí, b'fhearr a bhí  
Dúlamán na binne buí, dúlamán Gaelach  
Dúlamán na farraige, b'fhearr a bhí, b'fhearr a bhí  
B'fhearr a bhí in Éirinn


End file.
